


Avians and Angels

by seraf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Gen, Multi, Possible ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-01-22 01:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 19,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1571117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraf/pseuds/seraf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world that enslaves supernatural creatures, a fourteen-year old hunter buys an angel named Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, those of you who watch this story, I haven't updated in awhile. I'll be sure to do so more frequently now! Thank you! Please comment with any suggestions or ideas to help.

AVIANS AND ANGELS

Dean walked through the Market, hands crammed into the pockets of his leather jacket for warmth, the dirty slush slopping up against his worn out boots, and his breath furling like dragon smoke in the air. He fingered the folds of the wrinkled set of bills in his pocket with a grim smile. Around him, vendors called out, sounding like a murder of crows with their squawking, trying to persuade him into buying their wares. 

The pine wreaths in doorways and the windows glowing with strings of light declared the fact that it was nearly Christmas, and the Market was a sea of people, clatter and chatter echoing from every corner. Dean ignored much of the bustle around him, continuing down the concrete road. He brushed past a few people, and looked around at the shops surrounding him. On this trip, he only had one mission. 

He had to buy a present for his little sister Samantha, just this once, when he actually had money for it. His father would probably be mad at him for spending his hunting money on something as frivolous as toys, but he didn't care. Samantha deserved to have some sort of present to mark the year that had passed. He ran his eyes over each of the toy stands quickly, taking in each colorful item. Sam wouldn't like that, that was just stupid, that was expensive, that would get in the way of hunting.... 

He sighed briefly, the sound lost in the general bustle of the Market. He decided that this row of shops and stands was no good, and turned around, making his way through another alleyway of stalls, glancing around himself. He was at the pet section of the market, and the sounds of the animals just added to the cacophony. Looking at all the different animals, dogs and cats and birds, none of them struck him as something Sammy would particularly like. He turned away, ready to give up this hunt, when he heard something. It was the familiar tune of the Avian Circus. Dean had had no idea that they were coming to this town. Picking up his pace, he jogged to the Circus. 

About a hundred years ago, humans had made the unpleasant discovery that everything they thought of as "supernatural", everything they thought of as false, just another story to tell your kids, the things that went 'bump' in the night actually existed. How they chose to use that discovery betrayed the essence of human nature. They employed hunters (who had known for generations previous about these beings) to capture all sorts of supernatural beings, to be used as slaves and pets. The Avians were the most popular. Avians were what the human race used to call angels. Once it was discovered that they, too, could be captured, the demand was incredible. Avians were taken from their family as soon as they were no longer merely a wavelength of celestial intent. They had been forced to evolve so that they were a wavelength for a hundred years, and then they developed a corporeal form. They now also had corporeal wings, that as soon as they were ripped from Heaven, would be bleached white, because that was the stereotypical image of an angel. Then, the small avian would be wrenched from its parents, now looking like a two or three year old, and sold to the Avian Circus, which was an auction for all things supernatural, as well as being an actual circus.

Dean, as a hunter child, knew he was going to grow up to become a hunter. However, he tried to keep Sammy from that life as much as he could. Even though some races of supernatural creatures were docile and would easily be taken in, others, like the Tricksters and Lucifers Own, would not be taken in so easily. It was a dangerous job. Dean grunted a bit. At least they got paid now. Their dad told stories of the time when nobody knew these creatures existed but the hunters, who would do their work thankless and penniless. He watched some of the Avians swooping overhead with a mild interest. If he got one that was strong enough, maybe he could train it to help Dad with the hunting, and Sam wouldn't have to be a hunter at all. He got up from the metal stands, stretching and walking over to the wooden holding pens where several white-winged, rosy-cheeked, smiling Avians were happily bouncing around, singing and laughing. He knew that he could never afford the display Avians, the ones currently swooping around in a beautiful formation, but these? The common ones? Maybe. He examined the golden collar of one of the penned creatures, who sat there calmly and allowed the inspection. Dean was torn. He could get this, but he would have to go without food for awhile. He decided to keep browsing, walking down the lines of increasingly cheaper Avians, when suddenly someone grabbed his arm.

Dean whirled around, instinct and adrenalin taking control, as he prepared to tell off the Ringmaster or the Avian Trainer, who, presumably, had been the one to grab his arm. Instead, the face that greeted him was that of an Avian. 'Stupid Avian' he muttered offhandedly, trying to casually pull his arm out of the grip of the Avian. He stopped when he realized he couldn't. "Stop trying." Dean started, as he disbelievingly realized that, yes, it had been the Avian who had talked to him. "Wait." he said, warily putting his other hand up in a gesture of 'I surrender' "You can talk?" The Avian rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like "Hunters." He yanked Dean into a sitting position on the cold floor of the Circus, so Dean and the Avian were now at eye level. "Of course we can talk, we aren't animals." "Great." Dean said, mentally preparing to tell the Ringmaster one of his Avians was defective. He was still sure that trusting this Avian was the last thing he wanted to do. The Avian released him. The correct thing to do now would have generally been to run, but Dean had the feeling this Avian wanted to speak with him, and as such, he was morbidly curious. "Listen. I know you're here to buy an Avian. I also know that you were about to give up, because the Ringmaster loves to overprice us." Dean started to say something, but the Avian cut him off. "Don't worry, I'm not asking you to buy me, I'm fairly confident a hunters boy doesn't have that much money." Dean nodded, a bit relieved, but still confused. He decided that snark was the best response. "And what makes you think you'd be so expensive? Someone's got a bit of an ego." In response, the Avian unfurled it's wings, and Dean's eyes widened as he backed away a little. The Avians wings, instead of being the bleach-white hue that most angels have, were gold, a darker gold at the top, while fading lighter and lighter until his flight feathers were such a bright gold, it hurt Deans eyes to look at them. The Avian furled his wings back up with a bit of a sad smile. "Why aren't your wings white?" Dean asked, his mouth spewing out the first thing that came to mind. The Avian sighed, and rubbed his arm. Dean glanced at where he was rubbing, then did a double take. Carved up and down the Avians arms were symbols, and they looked as if they were fresh cuts. The Avian caught Dean looking. "Oh, yeah, you've got to love their creative ways of blocking my power." Dean looked troubled. "Do all Avians..." He pointed at the cuts vaguely. The Avian laughed hollowly. "Nope, just me. After my brothers escaped..." He trailed off, his meaning clear. "I suppose I could've escaped too, but someone needs to look after the younger ones." he said, looking at the surrounding Avians fondly. His face grew abruptly serious. "But I'm not sure if I can do that anymore." "Why not?" Dean fired back. "No matter what kind of trouble I'm in, I'll always stand up for my sister." The Avian threw back his head and laughed. "That's not the problem, kid. My head's scheduled for the chopping block anyway. I need to make sure my siblings don't meet the same fate." "Oh." said Dean, unsure what exactly one said to that. "What did you do?" The Avian snorted. "Beyond exist?" His face grew serious again. "They think it'll help them trap my brothers." He clapped his hands. "Still, not incredibly important. I had something I wanted to say to you." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, while a confused Dean looked on. He was fairly certain the Avian was insane. "Right." the Avian said. "You see those pens over there?" He pointed. Dean nodded, giving the cramped wooden pens a glance. "There's going to be an Avian in the second-to-last pen." "No duh." snorted Dean. The Avian gave him a 'not impressed' look. "Look for the dirty trenchcoat. His name is Castiel, and he's my youngest brother." An expression flashed over the Avians face, and it was one Dean recognized instantly, because he had worn that same expression many times. It was a mixture of annoyance, pride, and a touch of sadness. It was the expression he made whenever he looked at Sammy. At that moment, he empathized completely with the golden-winged Avian. He stood up, brushing dirt off his pants. "Alright." He started walking towards the second-to-last pen, before turning around. "By the way, what's your name?" The golden winged Avian looked a bit confused for a second, before responding, "Gabriel. They call me Gabriel." Dean nodded, and set off again.

 

Making his way through the small crowd, Dean managed to get over to the pen quickly enough. He gave the holding chamber a once-over. No dirty trench coat that he could see. He was about to go back and tell Gabriel that he was delusional (which he had been thinking the whole time) , when a slight movement caught his eye. Peering into the corner of the pen, Dean could see the outline of an Avian crouching down. And it looked like it was wearing a trench coat. Dean decided to go for it, and grimly stepped into the pen, brushing by a handful of cheery, white-winged Avians.  
\------------------------------------------  
Castiel shoved his hands further into the pockets of his trench coat, in a futile attempt to stay warm. He looked with resentment at the golden cuffs, inscribed with Enochian, that every Avian was required to wear. Without these, it would only take a touch of Grace for him to be warm again. A trench coat was insufficient protection against the harsh winters here. His head snapped to attention. Somebody was approaching... him. He warily backed into the corner a little further, and protectively curled in on himself, waiting for the blow from the Ringmaster or Avian Trainer that was surely going to come, because he was a useless Avian, nobody wanted him, and he was completely worthless. He slowly stopped his wincing when he realized nobody was hitting him. "Are you Castiel?" a voice asked. Castiel slowly looked up, to meet the green eyes of a freckled boy who looked to be his age (if he was human, the boy would be dead if he were Castiels age) He warily nodded, still cautious of the pain that was surely going to come, because when was the last time a human had been good to him? The boy kneeled, and said, in a low voice, "Gabriel told me to get you, okay? Don't be scared of me." The boy rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Jeez, I'm bad at this. Anyway, I'm Dean." he said, extending his hand to Castiel, who warily shook it. "C'mon, let's go." said Dean, standing up. Castiel followed, a few steps behind, wondering what might happen next


	2. Chapter 2

Dean glanced back at the tense Avian. He slowed down just enough so that their strides matched. He could tell that Castiel was afraid of him, for some reason. He placed a hand on the Avians shoulder, resulting in an almost unnoticeable flinch. "I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" Dean said. He felt like he had to make the shivering Avian feel comfortable with him, otherwise he might not be such a great present for Sammy. "You're going to meet my sister, Samantha. She's sweet, but she can get on your nerves sometimes." Dean said, with a bit of an exasperated smirk. He looked over at Castiel. There was no reaction, but he could swear the Avian's shoulder had stopped trembling under his hand, just a little.   
\------------------------------------------  
Castiel stared after the hunter boy. (He was a hunter, Castiel could see it, in his defensive posture, the way he walked, with one hand darting to his back pocket every so often, and his eyes, his eyes that made him seem old, as old as Castiel) He couldn't understand why Dean was being nice to him (He was a human, a human, and a hunter, like the one that had pulled Castiel out of Heaven, like the ones who had forced him into chains) and to be honest, it unnerved him. His whole life, he had been told to steer clear of humans (and he had tried, he had, and Gabriel had been captured as soon as he had and he didn't think that was a coincidence, and now Gabriel was going to be killed, and what would happen to him when Gabriel was gone?) and now there was Dean. Dean, the green-eyed hunter, who had a sister named Samantha (Castiel had had siblings, lots of brothers and sisters who's numerous Graces lit up the night sky like stars, but he didn't know where they were now, ever since he had been pulled out of Heaven, he only knew that one of his siblings had survived the madness of humanity when they were chained with him, their wings stained white with bleach and their Grace crying out for help) the sister he knew nothing about, because in the end, he was being bought (because that's all the angels were now, something to be bought, like food or a toy) and he had no idea what lay ahead for him.  
\------------------------------------------  
Dean approached the Ringmaster, who was busily bartering with another customer about the price of a young werewolf. The werewolf stood there, it's head hanging dejectedly. Dean curled his hands into fists. Sure, he was a hunter. He had caught his fair share of werewolves. But this? This seemed wrong. The werewolf was a little boy, younger than Sammy, maybe about 4 years old. Dean sighed, and turned away (He had his own family to worry about. He was not going to worry about any werewolves). His skin prickled. He could feel the tiny werewolf staring at him. He glanced towards it, then instantly regretted it. The creature looked scared, and it was staring at him with the tiniest glimmer of hope in it's eyes. Before Dean could even think about whether or not to do something, the owner walked away, yanking the werewolf behind it. The Ringmaster turned to him. "And how may I help you, young man?" Dean started. The Ringmaster peered at him for a second before grinning widely. "I remember you! John Winchesters boy, aren't you? He sold a Wendigo to our Circus two weeks ago." Dean nodded. He remembered that hunt. It had been long, cold and difficult. The money had gone to food, of course, even with Dean eyeing a new winter coat for Samantha, not to mention shoes, proper school supplies... Sometimes hunting was a pain in the ass. Correction. Hunting was always a pain in the ass. However, it was how they made a living, so might as well be polite to this asshat. He might have connections. Dean gritted his teeth, and forced a smile. "That's me." He shifted aside slightly so the Ringmaster could see Castiel. "As for my business here today, one Avian please." The Ringmaster stared for a second at Castiel before gesturing at Dean. The two walked a bit away, leaving Castiel there like a statue. The Ringmaster put a hand on Dean's shoulder and drew a little closer. Dean fought the impulse to back away. "Are you sure you want that one? He's-" and with this, the Ringmaster threw a disgusted look over his shoulder at the lone Avian. "-well, he's defective." Dean glanced back at where Castiel was standing. He looked broken, like somebody had snapped something vital inside of him. Dean thought of Gabriel, and how he had wanted Castiel to be safe. Then he thought of what he would do if Sam ever looked like that, as if somebody had crushed her spirit. His hands curled into fists. "I don't care. I'll take it." The Ringmaster shrugged. "Your funeral, kid."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean walked over to Castiel. "Come on." he said, gently tugging the Avian by the sleeve of his tan trenchcoat to where the Ringmaster was standing. The Ringmaster looked at Castiel with contempt. "Ah yes. One trench coated Avian to go." He jotted something down on his clipboard. "Hey." Dean said, trying to sound like he didn't care. "What's going to happen to Gabriel?" The Ringmaster looked up. "Who?" he asked. Dean forced himself to seem casual. "The other defective Avian." The Ringmaster actually looked pleased at this, putting his hands into the pockets of his plum suit and rocking back and forth a little. "Ah yes, that one. Well, I'm glad to say it will get what it deserves." he said, a sneer peeling out from under his mustache. "There will be a grand execution for the... creature in a weeks time. Would you like a ticket?" Dean forced back a bit of a grimace. That was too bad. However he had other problems, so he smiled with gritted teeth, and said "No, sir." The Ringmaster nodded, then pointed his pen at Castiel. "That will be 20 dollars." Dean couldn't believe it. That was incredibly cheap, compared to the other Avians he had seen. He could even take Sammy out for burgers tonight. "Alright." he said. He shook hands with the Ringmaster and pulled a wrinkled bill from his jean pocket. The man inspected it momentarily, before placing it, neatly folded, into one of the upper pockets of his rich purple suit. Then, reaching into a deeper pocket of his coat, he pulled something out, but placed it on his mahogany clipboard before Dean could see what it was. "You're going to need this." the Ringmaster said, handing the strange object to Dean. Dean took it between his forefinger and thumb, and held it out in front of him, as if it stunk. He quickly looked it over. It was an ornate, golden... collar. It had an assortment of gleaming symbols inscribed around the golden band. With a jolt, Dean realized them to be the same ones that had been carved into Gabriel's arms. He considered giving it back to the Ringmaster, but feared it would be rude. The Ringmaster took it from him, misunderstanding his expression and reading it as confusion. "Here." he said, deftly snapping the gold collar onto Castiel's neck, not caring that the Avian winced at the cold metal on his skin. Walking over to an old wooden storage crate, he rummaged around in said crate, digging through it until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a sleek golden chain and attached it to Castiel's collar. He then handed Dean a key. "For the creatures collar and handcuffs. Use it only if you have to." he said, with an expression that meant 'never' "Alright, thanks for your help." said Dean, with a tight smile.   
\------------------------------------------  
"Asshat." muttered Dean, when they were back out on the pavement. Dean kicked a pebble violently and watched it ricochet around the street stalls. Cas looked around himself with interest as the far-flung pebble clinked off of the brick walls of shops and a few metal poles that set up the awnings of stands. He didn't really get out of the Circus much, and usually when he did, it was just as unpleasant as the place he had left behind. So when he surveyed the red and white stripes of the store awnings, the vendors bartering with their customers, the sea of people with their words rising, in tune with their foggy breath, it was with a sense of awed fascination, as if he were a small child. A grumpy Dean, slouching against the brick wall of a shop, caught the reflection of Castiel's expression, and grinned. Striding up to him, he tugged the shoulder of the Avian's dirty trenchcoat. Castiel's head snapped around, as he turned to face Dean. "You gonna stand and stare all day?" Dean asked. Castiel turned toward him like a well oiled machine, which Dean found to be a bit disconcerting. Turning away, he started walking in the direction of the food section of the Market.  
"Come on. Let's go shopping." he said, with a sarcastic 'yay' face.  
\------------------------------------------  
The hunter and the Avian arrived at the big supermarket Dean had seen earlier. Dean grabbed a cart, and pushed it, wheels squeaking, through the automatic doors of the supermarket, where a blast of warm air hit them from the huge heaters.  
"Can you cook anything?" Dean called to Castiel, already heading towards the food section. The Avian nodded.   
"Well, grab some cheap stuff we can cook. Make sure it can move easily." Dean instructed, already grabbing cans of soup and boxes of cereal. John would be back from where he was hunting the rougarou soon, and they'd be moving on. Castiel obediently started placing boxes and cans into the cart.   
"Cas, you think we should get frozen pizza?" Dean called from another aisle. Castiel froze. What?   
Dean poked his head out from behind one of the shelves. "Jeez, Castiel, do you ever talk?" Cas sighed. He wasn't sure what to make of the freckled hunter and his nicknames, so for now, caution was best.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel and Dean walked 'home' (some crappy motel that John had picked) without saying a word, Castiel obediently following Dean, staying a few steps behind like a good Avian does. Dean was quiet, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, mentally calculating how to spread the food out over the course of the next two weeks. He would have to miss a meal here and there, but that wasn't anything new. As long as Sammy got to eat, he would be fine. 

Cas was quiet, wings protectively curled around himself to preserve every speck of warmth. He was wondering about Dean. Would Dean be like the previous hunter owners he had had? He shuddered at the memories that snuck into his brain, whispering to him a thousand reasons why he should never, ever trust a hunter. He glanced warily at the green-eyed boy every so often, knowing that if Dean decided to do anything to him, he was not allowed to stop him, no matter if Dean broke him or beat him or just let him starve, this was expected of an Avian owner.  
\------------------------------------------  
The hunter and the Avian finally reached the motel. Dean turned to Castiel. "Okay, Castiel, you're a present for my little sister, so try not to make any noise until I say." Castiel dutifully nodded. Dean opened the door and quickly pushed Castiel into the small hallway area where they kept their shoes and jackets. "Sammy, I'm back!" He felt his little sister slam into him, and hugged her back. Bobby's Avian, Samandriel, who had been watching Samantha while Dean had been buying food nodded at Dean respectfully and walked out the door. Dean watched him go. "So, how's Stripes treating you?" he asked, collapsing onto the couch with a groan. "I am never getting up again." he muttered into a pillow. Sam sat next to him. "His name is Samandriel." she corrected him, with a disdainful expression. "Whatever you say." Dean responded. He sat up. "Hey, Sammy, I got you a present today." Sammy sat up, eyes shining. "Really? What is it?" she asked, bouncing up and down where she sat. "You have three guesses to win the lucky prize." he said in an announcer voice. Sam bit her lip, deep in thought. 

"Is it a car made of Hershey's chocolate?" Dean glanced at his sister, confused. "Where exactly do you think I could get a car made of Hershey's chocolate?" Sam shrugged. "You might have met a Trickster." she pointed out hopefully. Dean shook his head. "No Tricksters." He snorted. "Good thing, too. I hate their chocolate-loving asses." Sam laughed. "You met that nice one, Kali, though, right?" she asked Dean, idly swinging her legs. 

"Kali tried to kill me!" Dean protested. "You were trying to do the same." Sam pointed out. "Touché." Dean said, pointing to his sister in acknowledgement. They had ended up selling Kali to the highest bidder, quite a large sum, actually. "Now, let's see if you can use your wonderful skills of logic to find out what I got you." Sam looked up at Dean with shining eyes.  
"Is it an Avian?"  
Dean pointed at his sister. "Ding ding ding! We have our lucky winner. Let me retrieve your prize."  
He walked into the hallway. "Come on, Castiel!" he whisper-shouted at the angel, who obediently followed him back to the room with Dean's starry-eyed little sister.

"Can I see your wings?" she asked Castiel, practically glowing with happiness.

Castiel hesitated, glancing nervously at Dean for a second, before nodding. He stood absolutely still as he slowly unfurled a pair of ink-black wings that nearly spanned the entire room.

Dean stood back, confused but somehow not surprised. This happened to him more than he liked to admit. Something always went wrong. This time, it was the Avian's black wings. Dean thought about all the myths of angels with black wings. Black wings were a bad omen, a sign of a broken Avian, there could be no good from owning an Avian with black wings. He could just imagine John yelling at him now for letting something in that could hurt Samantha, but.... He looked over at Castiel. Samantha was staring at the black wings in awe and reaching out to touch one of the Avian's primaries. Cas was glancing down at her, looking as skittish as a cornered animal, but slowly reaching out his wing for her hand. That creature didn't look like an abomination. He looked like a scared, hungry kid who had seen too much. And that was something that Dean could sympathize with.


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel had made dinner (two cans of Campbell's soup), which he noticed had put Dean on edge. The boy hunter kept nervously shifting in his seat, half standing up a few times as if he were going to take charge, and snatch the spoon away from Castiel. Samantha had also shot a few concerned looks between Cas and Dean, almost asking Dean 'why?' with a glance.

They looked alike, Dean significantly thinner (though when the soup was served, Castiel could see the clear reason why. Every time Samantha was distracted, or looked away for a second, Dean would load up her bowl from his own.) and he looked almost... Old. Too old, wary and on edge for the fourteen year old he was.

Although. In his evaluation, Cas seemed to have forgotten his own aging. He had been envesseled for 14 years now, and was considered 14 by the Ringmasters and his owners. But he watched everyone with quick-moving, suspicious eyes, drawn in on himself. He was malnourished and bruised, and he still had a collar on his neck. Showing that he was property. A pet. He did not belong to himself, and the collar was merely there to remind him of that. But during it all, something had stayed. Some fierce spark you could just see dancing in his eyes as he looked at his chains, something that clearly stated 'this is not my place.' Castiel could be dangerous, if he so chose. He had no training, his blade had been taken from him as soon as he had stopped being light, but. But. Deep down, buried under heavily influenced obedience instincts and bruises from harsh ringmasters, Castiel and the rest of the Avians were soldiers. 

And they wouldn't forget that, no matter how many chains they were placed in.  
\------------------------------------------  
Dean noticed Castiel hunched in himself and his baggy trenchcoat over in the corner. He frowned. Castiel was only about an inch shorter than him, the trenchcoat shouldn't be that.... Oh. Dean felt a bit sick as Castiel moved his arm and displayed a bone-thin wrist covered in bruises. He got up, leaving his bowl of soup, and gently pushed the jumpy Avian to the table, scooting his bowl of soup over. 

Cas started at the pushing, snapping his neck around to see who had touched his back and.... Oh. It was Dean. His heart had sped up substantially, and a 'fight or flight' instinct had overtaken him, and he would have, should have acted on it (like the time in Colorado, remember? Gabriel had taken responsibility. Gabriel had taken the beating. All Cas had done was run from the hunter who had wanted to- no. No. Don't think about that. Don't think about the time Samandriel had to give his shirt for bandages when the Ringmaster had just told them to let Gabriel- no. Gabriel hadn't died. He would be fine. Don't think about it.) because he got the sense this green-eyed young hunter boy wouldn't hunt him down, or hurt him afterwards or break his wings and- no. No. He sat down, still shaking, looking around him cautiously because they were hunters and hunters were threats and picked up the spoon, moving it as quickly as he could because what if they took the bowl back and hurt him for eating their food? What if?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Just a note to apologize for not updating in two months ^^' I've sadly neglected this poor story)

6 days, 4 hours and 13 minutes.   
Gabriel mentally checked the time until his excecution. Too many rebellions, standing up to protect the younger Avians, taking the blame for their mistakes, even helping a few escape.

Angel executions were terrible, bloody things that were similar to the gladiator fights in Ancient Rome. A few of the display angels would be given back their swords for just a day, and told to turn on their unarmed sibling.

They were warriors. And designed to obey. What else could they do? 

And crowds would come, by the dozens, by the hundreds, to watch brother turn on brother, watch the desperate Avian rely on its instinct and try to fly on clipped, bleached wings, watch the regret on the show Avian's faces as they went in for the final blow, and stamp their feet and cheer when the fight would end with a pair of blackened wings, and a scream, always a scream, high enough to shatter glass and make every dog near the Circus whimper and run for cover.

Gabriel pulled his own gold wings nearer to him, treasuring them all the more for what would follow.  
When the crowd would rush in and pull at the angel's now-black wings, removing feathers and keeping them as souvenirs.

That was why Castiel's wings were considered unlucky, he was worth less, because he was a dead angel walking, according to the superstition. Angels were supposed to have white wings, and those who's wings wouldn't turn white after multiple bleachings were mistreated, beaten and left to starve, being dragged along with the Circus while having to cling to survival.

Gabriel's brothers hadn't been able to succumb to the bleachings, either. He gave a rueful smile as he remembered Michael and Raphael and Lucifer, with their brilliant, colored wings, six each.  
Like him.  
This was, in part, a possible reason for his execution.  
Because his brothers did what he could not.   
They escaped.  
And Gabriel was starting to regret the series of choices that had followed, waiting those few seconds because they were meant to watch over their younger siblings, to protect them as best they could, and if all four of them were gone, who could do that?  
Michael, Raphael, and Lucifer had escaped, even carrying a few of the youngest angels.  
Gabriel had not.  
And he was beginning to regret it.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean had heard the Impala driving up first. He and Samantha had returned home from school, and Samantha had stretched out on the wooden floor, doing her homework with one of the motel pens and explaining to Dean what had happened at school today. (There had been an assembly, and a fire drill. Afterwards, they had gotten an extra recess.) Castiel was making himself scarce, as per usual when they didn't need him for something.  
It had been two days, and he still hadn't said a word, giving a quiet nod or shake of the head in lieu of conversation, after which he would promptly disappear as soon as he could.  
The Impala's tires crunching on the motel driveway outside the motel room caused quite the reaction in the siblings; Dean yelling "Dad!" and scrambling for the door, slamming it open, Sammy following behind to tackle-hug her father.   
Castiel could hear the laughter of the Winchester trio coming from the room that was next to his as he once again slunk out, avoiding John, because while Dean was a hunter, he was still really only a child. Children could be cruel, at times, but they still contained a certain ability to change their decisions, and to feel empathy.  
Adults were not like that; they kept a hard and firm grip in their beliefs, and oftentimes would refuse to have them altered. And if this John Winchester believed in corporeal punishments (or worse) for Castiel, there was little to nothing he could do about it.  
\------------------------------------------  
John's voice cut through the motel room as the three sat on the couch together. Samantha was incredibly happy for this opportunity; usually her dad was away, and when he was back, he would be solemn and stern and stiff, training Dean like a soldier and criticizing her. "So, how'd you two do while I was gone? Did you do all your homework, 'Mantha?" He leaned over to tickle her and she giggled, crossing her arms and sticking her fingers in her armpits to prevent further tickling. "Of course!" she insisted, almost offended. "Dean didn't, though." Her brother stuck his tongue out immaturely before John turned to him. "Is that true, Dean?" John asked quietly. Dean stiffened in his seat. "I was keeping an eye out for Sammy, sir." he said respectfully. "You know that doesn't give me any time for all that algebra crap." John swatted Dean's head, causing Dean to flinch a little. "Your sister is by far the most important thing, Dean, but you have to at least try. I didn't raise you to be an idiot." Dean dipped his head. "Yes sir." he said quietly.   
Samantha shot a few nervous glances between her brother and her father anxiously in the silence that followed. She brightened up a bit and sat up straight. "Hey dad, we need you to meet someone." Dean gave her a quick glare, shooting her a 'really? Now?' look, but she turned slightly on the beat-up couch, ignoring him. John gave her a quick, distracted quirk of the lips as he began checking through the paperwork necessary for their next hunting assignment (a siren that had been killing people near and in Lake Michigan.) You could already tell he had lost focus on his children, now focused on the next job he was working. Samantha swallowed, throat strangely dry for a second.   
"Hey, Cas, come meet our dad."  
\------------------------------------------  
Castiel heard the summoning from where he had been washing dishes in the kitchen, and he froze before walking out, trembling in his oversized coat, where he stood, stuff as a board, almost like a soldier waiting for command, as John gave him an inspection. (This hunter looked threatening and Cas was holding back the urge to flinch as he stood up slowly)   
John gave Dean a disapproving look, and Dean had less control over his flinching than Castiel, moving back on the couch a little.   
"You bought an Avian." John said, his voice every manner of calm. He shook his head. "Dean."  
Dean chewed on his lip nervously. "Dad... It's okay, he's not gonna hurt Sammy, I've got the key, and-" He was stopped with a look from John.   
Everything was silent for a few seconds, a tense thing that seemed to fill the room, and then-  
"Dammit, Dean!" John yelled, hitting the back of the couch. "What have I told you?! What did I say?"  
Dean began shaking a little, and Samantha looked scared, quietly crawling along the couch until Dean was between her and her father. He touched her arm comfortingly for a second, which only Cas noticed, as well as the slight relief on Sam's face that followed.   
"You-you told me to never let anything in." Dean muttered, looking ashamed and letting his head drop. "But, dad-"  
"I don't want to hear it, Dean." John said, in a cold voice that clearly showed that the conversation was over.   
Dean nodded, chewing on his lip again. Samantha hugged her brother, leaning her head on his shoulder.   
John began packing up again, quickly and efficiently, checking his maps and pulling newspaper articles off the wall. "Grab your bags. Wait, no, it-" he jabbed a finger over his shoulder at Cas "-can make itself useful. Pack the bags." he told Cas, never once stopping to make eye contact with the Avian. "Dean, come outside. I need to talk to you."


	8. Chapter 8

Four days passed. Cas never did find out what had happened in that conversation between Dean and John, but that Dean looked slightly on edge around his father for the next two days; constantly trying to impress his dad more than usual and taking what Cas saw as little more than glorified commands, throwing his heart into them just for a possible look of approval thrown his way.  
Meanwhile, Cas was usually used for menial and manual tasks, like washing the car, cooking food, unclogging the crappy motel toilet, fun things like that. Sam attempted to make conversation every so often, and Dean could be friendly if he wanted to be, and sometimes he was; giving Cas a portion of his food, or doing some of his work every so often. But he had a hunter's perspective on Castiel; he was not human, therefore he was inferior. And the purpose he served would be to work. And then there was John. John, who treated him like almost every other hunting owner he had had. Never making eye contact with him, calling him it as he ordered him around, telling Dean and Samantha not to spend too much time with him. And. They were in a diner now, Samantha happily digging into her chocolate chip pancakes, while Dean triumphantly ate pie for breakfast and Cas sat outside because 'any decent restaurant won't serve an Avian, sorry sweetie, but those are the rules' and even now, he winced, rubbing the new set of bruises he had on his arm. He didn't know what he had expected from John.  
Why would this hunter be any different from the ones that had come before? Humans were supposed to be good at change, ant yet nobody had seemed to tell the hunters of this. Hunters stayed the same. Thinking other things were inferior because they were too blond to see the beauty in things.   
The diner bell rang, and Cas jumped as the Winchesters walked out, Samantha and Dean midway through a heated argument over whether sausages or bacon were better, John on his phone, talking to a hunter about a new case.  
Slinking closer to the oldest of the Winchesters, Cas was able to pick up the tail end of the conversation. "-and I know Rufus dropped out at the last moment, but I've got one of them with me now, I can't go trekking through backcountry with it and the boys." A pause as whoever was on the other end of the phone said something, then John rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Fine, Bobby. But you're taking the boys after this, you already sent me on a case after that bitch of the Own, remember?" He hung up and put his phone in his pocket, Cas creeping away quickly so as not to receive any anger from him. What were they...? John spoke up now, clapping his hands together. "Right. Samantha, Dean, you, get in the car, Bobby's given us a case."  
He eyed Cas as if he were the devil incarnate. "We're going after an Avian."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((Sorry for not updating for two weeks, I was at camp. ))

Two days left.  
Gabriel was tired.   
He had seen his siblings training, seen the Ringmaster pick some of who he thought were the best display Avians, and given them back their blades, and that was what he was watching now.  
He sat back, leaning against the hard wood of the pen wall, and laughed a little, letting his own wings spread out. He had been warned to keep them tight against his back, but screw it, he had two days to live.   
It was rather ironic, he mused, watching his siblings soar. In any other case, he would be proud of their flight, help them with their sword form- Ianias's grip was almost a personal insult- be proud of them. Help them.   
But now, when his own life was on the line, when his sibling's flashing swords could easily be buried, not into the training dummies set out, but his own heart, or that Avian- that was Barachiel, remember? Before those wings had been this sickly bleach white, they looked like a hawk's. Now they stretched through the air in powerful swooping motions, and Gabriel was both wary and still yet proud of his little brother, who had managed to fly fast enough to avoid the Ringmaster's whip.  
And there, too, was a heavy sadness that tugged at him, because there was none of the joy and exhilaration that should be on his brother's face, that accompanied flying, using ones wings to soar above everyone else, because that is what made them Avian, their beautiful gift and pride. None of that. Instead, there was quiet apprehension and something that almost approached pain and just a weariness that tugged on the faces of his brothers and sisters as they joules sly soared around on their too-white wings, a yelp and a crack resonating throughout the Circus if any of them flew close to the Ringmaster and his whip.

Gabriel sighed and began scratching designs in the black dirt of the pen floor, beginning a set of wings. Primaries, secondaries, contours, humerus goes here.... Using a selected Avian as his model and trying to watch her as she flitted above the Ringmaster's whip (because contrary to the human's beliefs, not all Avian's wings were the same shape, just like they weren't all naturally white. They were a range of shapes, like different bird species. This specific Avian, a dark-skinned girl named Hester, who looked about 11, had wings shaped similarly to a raven's, though Gabriel remembered they had been a light mint green.)

Pausing in his contemplation of his younger sister, his skin prickled as he realized that he hadn't heard the all too familiar sound of the Ringmaster's whip for a few minutes.  
He turned to see the stupid smug man in his stupid plum suit standing behind him, outside of the pen, wearing a stupid smirk under the stupid mustache.

Gabriel wanted to stab him in the face.

He stood up, brushing the black dust off onto his pants, crossing his arms and flaring his wings out defiantly, prepared for the Ringmaster. If he tried to grab him, Gabriel would at least give him a few good bruises. Maybe a wing to the face, hard enough to slam him back to the ground, then he could stamp on his stomach....

But the Ringmaster seemed to have prepared for such a possibility, and with a smirk towards Gabriel, he nodded, and two Avians (Ophaniel, who had spiky black hair, and whose wings had once nearly matched that, feathers being sharp and occasionally messily sticking out everywhere, such a dark purple that in the shadows, they passed as black, Ophaniel who had loved the sky and moon and would stargaze for hours when he had been younger, falling asleep during lunch as a result. Ophaniel who probably hadn't seen the stars in a year or so, whose still-young face looked drawn in and emotionless. With him was Hesediel, who only looked to be nine or so, who had been one to chase butterflies and pick dandelions while happily chirping in Enochian, proudly bringing each new discovery to her older siblings, blue eyes shining with excitement. Hesediel, who had had wings like a hummingbirds; iridescent green and constantly in motion, constantly showing her emotions through the body language her wings demonstrated. Hesediel, who's eyes now looked burnt out and dull, who's white wings now hung limp on her back.) They looked at Gabriel with something that almost looked apologetic before they each took one of his arms, standing to the Ringmaster's attention like good little soldiers.

Gabriel's heart sunk. The Ringmaster, he would have no problem punching a few holes in, but these were his siblings, broken-spirited and mindlessly-obedient though they were.

Which is why he followed the Ringmaster without protest to go, go to what he felt was already the death of him; getting his wings clipped rendered him useless as an Avian, took away one of the few things that brought him hope.   
But.  
He walked. He followed orders.  
As he was supposed to.  
Obedience was a cruel thing; it gave one a mindless purpose if you chose to accept it, but could beat you into the ground over time.  
\------------------------------------------  
Castiel was shell-shocked.  
As he had every right to be.  
These hunters had been- well, not nice, exactly, but he was fed, and not beaten, and the collar and cuffs that bound back his power were not too tight (Like that one time, that one time Barachiel and he had been rented to a hunter in Missouri, and he had nearly died, as in a fit of drunken cruelty after a failed attempt to capture a djinn, the hunter tightened his collar so tightly, the metal bit into his skin and left red streaks, and squeezed his throat until every shallow breath seemed to be a Herculean struggle, and he was wondering if this might be his last owner until- until- Barachiel had snatched the keys from their drunken master. They were returned shortly afterwards.) and the Winchesters, overall, were decent.  
But. But.  
This was-   
wrong.   
Because he knew, he knew all too well what would happen to these new Avians, what would happen when their power was cut off, and they were thrown from place to place until they were broken, in spirit, in body, because that was the mark of a good Avian.  
And he was helping, aiding their capture.  
He might as well wield the whip himself.  
He clenched and unclenched his fists again and again, grabbing fistfuls of his overcoat and releasing them again as he struggled to keep his breathing steady.  
"Cas?"  
At his name, he jerked his head around, eyes wild, to meet the concerned green eyes of one Dean Winchester. He didn't say anything, just panted for a few minutes as the Impala bounced over potholes.   
It was the fist time since his purchase that the hunter had made an effort to speak with him, beyond an offhand comment or an order.  
It would also be the first time he replied, beyond a nod.  
"What?" he half-snarled, earning him a glare from John that made him want to shrink into the seat of the Impala, become one with the upholstery.   
Dean looked at his father at that as well, and for a second Cas could almost see the same desire to release his inner car seat written on Dean's face.  
That look was what made Cas actually consider listening to the hunter boy.  
He watched Dean through narrowed eyes as the green-eyed boy ran a hand through his sandy hair awkwardly. "Look, I don't understand-"  
He was interrupted by the Impala bouncing over an especially large pothole, followed by John turning up the music.  
And that was when Cas snapped.  
"No. You don't." Calm, dangerously calm, his blue eyes burning in a bright, almost mad, anger.  
"All you know of us, of the Avians, and even of the others- the Tricksters, the werewolves and vampires, shapeshifters, even Lucifer's Own, is the shape in which you purchase us- beaten, broken, powerless. And you call that obedience, and we are praised for it. Praised for our ability to have been beaten down until we have lost the ability to even possess a personality, because we get torn apart at the first sign of difference, of possible rebellion. We are taken, as your father is taking us to go do now, as children, tiny little things, younger than your preschoolers. They cast us into chains and bleach our wings, and we are sent away, sold. The few lucky of us are sold as pets, treated as animals and pampered. The rest of us-" And at that, he laughed, one cold beat. "Slaves. We are taken in by masters, hunters like you, who see us as inhuman, and think of us as without a soul. We are forced to go through an unnatural aging process, while scars on our backs fail to heal, as nephilim are born to female angels unwillingly, and killed because we still have the idea that they are abominations. We cannot fly, we cannot sing, we cannot do anything that makes being an angel have any meaning."  
He tipped his head to the side, a cornered snake striking out at last. "That is the fate that awaits these new Avians, the fate you are making me condemn them to."  
He suddenly became conscious that both Samantha and Dean were looking at him with an odd combination of fear, revulsion (perhaps not towards him. Perhaps towards his past.) and oddly.... Respect.   
He kept his head high.  
If that rant had cost him, so be it.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean stared at the black-winged Avian, thanking whatever fucking God there might be that John hadn't heard that little rant. He shot a look towards his sister, who was looking- was that sympathy?- at Cas. Their eyes met for a second, and he could tell that she was thinking along the same lines as him; what the hell was that all about? The freckled fifteen year old looked nervously back at Castiel, who continued to seem like a faithful soldier surrounded; keeping his head held high, determined to carry on fighting whatever the consequence may be.  
And then Dean realized that an unbroken Cas would make a terrifying enemy for just this one simple reason: he did not care. He could, would be the one to kamikaze himself into a fight, and fight fiercely until the end.  
With that revelation in mind, it was a more wary Dean Winchester who looked at the boy with blue eyes next to him, almost waiting for him to make the first move.  
And as for what Castiel had said, the pure- he didn't even know what to call it. Shock, perhaps. He did perhaps consider Cas to be less than human, but he was- wasn't he? The hunter was now being forced to look at his entire life at a different angle, one he had never considered before. Because however inhuman the Avians- or even fucking Lucifer's Own- were, they didn't deserve that.  
Not that.  
When it became clear that Castiel wasn't going to talk any longer, and after a silent conversation with his sister (involving a few dirty looks, raised eyebrows, and a game of Rock Paper Scissors) Dean lightly touched Cas's shoulder, pulling his hand back when Cas instinctively flinched.  
He didn't comfort him, didn't even try, because how could one hunter boy make up for all the cruelties of his predecessors? Instead, he just said, in a soft voice, "Happy Christmas Eve, Cas."  
It wasn't exactly the conventional Christmas Eve, there had been no preparations, no decorations, no Christmas cards from relatives and friends (Bobby and Ellen had called in to gruffly wish them a merry Christmas, and told them to keep John out of trouble, and that they'd see them soon.) The only present currently sat, not under a tree, but in the middle seat of the Impala, wrapped in a tan overcoat instead of the typical colored paper.  
After a long second, where the only thing to be heard was John's classic rock on the Impala radio, Cas gave one single nod, and a small thing that could almost qualify as a smile to Samantha.  
"That is the reason I'm here, after all." Dean blinked. Cas was becoming practically talkative. But, to be fair, he had a point.  
He looked over towards his sister, who had an enormous smirk on.  
Dean had only enough time to think, there's no way that can be good, before she pulled a slightly battered red bow out of her coat pocket, peeled off the adhesive, and slapped it in Cas's hair, causing the Avian to blink in confusion and the two siblings to crack up. And once again, Dean could swear he saw something resembling a smile cross the angel's lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for this chapter being short... I apologize in advance for what's gonna happen next chapter, I really do. Also, if anyone wants to leave a comment telling me anything they like or anything I should do better, I will love you forever. Thank!


	11. Chapter 11

Christmas Day for the Winchesters was not a huge celebration. It was Samantha waking the rest of them up at fucking goddamn early o'clock wearing a Santa hat.

It was Dean nearly flopping asleep on top of her, muttering something about how she could even be cheerful at this hour.

It was John hugging his children and wishing them a merry Christmas, and the almost evil glint in Dean's eye when he said that, yes, Dean, your Christmas present is you can drive the car, now someone get me a coffee.

It was Cas earning a small nod from the oldest hunter when he walked in in some hideous thing that Missouri had brought over, holding a pot of coffee and quietly informing the Winchesters that they had visitors.

It was their old friend Missouri bursting through the door, scolding John for not decorating the place, and Dean Winchester if I see you go near that cake one more time, I will smack you with a spatula, and handing out presents left and right.

It was the Winchesters trying not to crack up as they looked at each other in their (Dean had his suspicions that they might be purposefully) ugly Christmas sweaters, and did their best not to think about how truly horrendous they were, because oh god DEAN YOU THOUGHT ABOUT IT RUN!

It was laughing an hour or so later, when a notably sweater-less Winchester family sat around the table, having a pancake eating contest and yelling across the table that YEAH DAD YOU DO HAVE TO USE UTENSILS YOU CHEATERBUTT.

It was Missouri slipping a stack of pancakes to Cas and giving him a warning look, and while he, unlike her, was no psychic, he could tell that that look meant he had better eat his pancakes or else.

Christmas morning for the Winchesters might not have been big, or that much of a celebration, but this year, it managed to be a Christmas. And the Winchesters (and Cas) were fine with that.

\------------------------------------------

Samantha was licking the last wayward drops of syrup off her fork as Missouri began cleaning up, and snorted as she raised an eyebrow at Dean.

"Get up and help me, boy! Enough lying around." Dean groaned and rolled off the couch that he had moved himself over to. "But-but-"

"You, go help Missouri." John said over the rim of his coffee mug, giving a little wave in the direction of Castiel. He then promptly winced, as Missouri had given him a whack on the top of the head with the spoon she was currently measuring. Samantha choked back a smile as she watched the woman look disapprovingly at her father.

"Castiel has been good, and he cleared his own plate. Now if your boy could get off his lazy rear and help me along, that'd be greatly appreciated. And don't you argue with me, John Winchester, you know my views on this." She ruffled Castiel's hair gently, and pointed at Dean, who after a few grumbles, pulled himself up off of the floor. Samantha quietly handed her plate to Dean, beaming innocently, before sitting next to her dad, who was already poring over the lore books.

She winced, looking over his shoulder and seeing the page he was studying, a worn out page on the young Avians, showing a detailed diagram of a young boy with wings spread out behind him. 

She looked from the worn leather cover of the book to her father, noting John’s reach for the whiskey bottle on the table and his furrowed brow, and her forehead wrinkled too, out of worry for her father. As his eyes finished sliding along the sentence he was on, they suddenly met Samantha’s, causing the girl to look away, her cheeks flushing a little.

"Samantha, I'm sorry, but I gotta leave town for a few days.” John stated, setting down both his drink and his book and folding his daughter into his arms, ignoring the halfhearted protests on her part and giving her a little half smile when she settled down in his arms.

“Missouri said she'd watch you two, Dean can drive the car- god help us all- and-" A sigh as he looked at Missouri, who nodded at him approvingly. "You two- and it- can go to Hunter's Ap tonight."

Dean looked over from where he had been trying not to mentally swear while doing dishes, a look of disbelief on his face. "Seriously? You're letting us go this year?"

Hunter's Ap (short for Hunter's Appreciation) was a huge Christmas event thrown at an Avian Circus. Admission and food were free for hunters, and a huge show was put on to honor and thank them for doing their best to keep the country safe. Samantha and Dean had snuck out to go to it once when Samantha was 5, and John hadn't let them go again since.

John tossed a ball of crumpled paper at Dean's head, where it bounced off his forehead.

"Yes, I'm letting you go. Don't sneak off to go see the djinns out of their cages or anything, or I'm never letting you go again."

Dean whooped, dropping the plate into the sink, earning him a disapproving look from Missouri. He and Samantha jumped up and began dancing crazily around the kitchen counter. "We get to go to Hunter's Ap, we get to go to Hunter's Ap.." Samantha sing-shouted. Missouri shook her head.

"They're idiots. Adorable, but idiots."

\------------------------------------------

Hunter's Ap was bustling, loud, and filled with people, several of which Dean knew, and would wave to. And if they didn't know the younger hunters themselves, they often addressed them as 'John's boys', with a hearty smile, a pat on the back, and an inquiry after their father. Samantha would talk too, making the odd snarky comment that would make the grown-ups smile, beaming herself as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. It felt like there was a huge, distant family gathering here, everyone knowing each other and talking, hugs, greetings, and condolences shared, mourning hunters that had been.

Meanwhile, there were also several supernatural creatures who would instinctively shy away from the large groups of boisterous hunters, occasionally talking in quick, hushed tones, in a variety of languages (everything from English to Latin to Sumerian) and never straying too far from their masters, even if straying from their masters might just be what they longed to do) . 

Castiel hung close to the two Winchesters, nodding to any other Avians and occasionally exchanging a few quiet words in a language that neither Dean nor Samantha understood, but that an older hunter, with a bark of a laugh and a roll of her eyes, informed them was Enochian.

Eventually, the enthusiastic siblings found their way, laden with popcorn, cotton candy, and several promises to tell their father that so-and-so had said hello, down to a front seat that someone had said they could have, as they had to leave on a business matter. Apparently, there was a Trickster or two down in Las Vegas he had to deal with, which Dean quietly thought explained quite a bit.

Castiel had trailed behind, deep in thought. About the new Avians they would have to soon pick up. They were in the right location, close to the backcountry they'd have to trek through to where the Avians would be found when they first materialized. Now all they could do was wait. (John was filling up the time by hunting down a rogue member of the Own a few towns over.) 

Cas hoped they'd miss them. That the Avians would have enough time to find their feet, wings, and fly off, hopefully managing for long enough to find somewhere to stay hidden.

He sighed. Like communism, it was a brilliant plan in theory, but in practice, it probably wouldn't go down too well. Which he himself knew, hadn't he tried? Hadn't Gabriel tried? Half of these Avians at some point must have attempted some escape attempt or another.

Sitting down on the metal bench next to Dean (who was turning and making a bet with a hunter behind him about whether or not he could fit all that cotton candy in his mouth at once) he shivered and pulled his overcoat more tightly around him as he looked down into the space in the Circus with the raked-out, black dirt floor. There had been awkward wooden pens there, and he had been in one. If he had not been bought, might he have had a fate in this performance?

Sighing, he decided it would be best not to think on it too much. The lighting in the Circus dimmed, and Cas caught the glint of steel out of the corner of his eye. There was a small cage in the back, with a young Trickster controlling lighting and special affects. He looked away, rubbing his collar in a show of silent, unseen empathy as he wondered how much that kid had been through until he had the light show perfectly for the Ringmaster. Like an elephant painting. It was beautiful, but it wasn't right.

He turned his attention back to the arena, where three Avians were lined up, spreading their white wings in sync, the lighting flashing off of the metallic halos the Trickster had given them. And the music began, showing one Avian in and out in a colorful whirlwind of lighting, smoke, white feathers and glinting halos, making Cas almost dizzy as his siblings spun through the air in time with the fast orchestral music, performing something between what a maniacal acrobat would do and a ballet as their wings beat together.

And suddenly, the arena was cleared, leaving the black dirt alone with eerie green lighting appearing to come from nowhere. Samantha and Dean, as well as the other hunters were grinning in anticipation, excitement, popcorn being scooped into hands or casually kicked under seats.

Cas was chewing on his lip, looking around the Circus floor for any sign of what might be coming, and then- Four Avians, walking calmly in a two by two formation into the center of the arena, dressed in stark white, white shirts and white pants, with well-groomed white wings extended behind them, their faces made of smooth stone. If not for their different skin tones, their dull eyes and white white outfits would make them appear to be carved of marble.

Then, a door on the other side of the arena opened, and one more Avian walked out, limping a bit, but his head held high, and an unmistakable smirk on his face.

He was wearing the red of a target in the Circus, what every djinn or Trickster, Own or Avian like the one here now hoped they never had the misfortune to don, because it was now that they would get brutally torn apart by members of their own species, who feared that they might have to put on the scarlet themselves.

It hit Dean before Castiel, surprisingly, that the target Avian looked familiar in a way he couldn't quite....

The Avian spread it's wings.

Six golden wings that caught the bizarre lighting of the Circus, reflecting it onto the faces of the amassed hunters , filled the space around Gabriel, as he unfurled them with a nearly arrogant half-smile on his lips (because that was obviously who he was, because who else would saunter to their execution (wasn’t an excecution, the smaller angel thought fiercely, wasn’t, Gabriel would beat them all) with a smirk on their lips and a flaunt of their wings? Who else would manage to look that confident, to wink at his little brother in the oversized overcoat, who was staring at him in abject horror?)

Because this was Gabriel, and this was what he would do, who he was, strolling into his execution with a bold look of 'who cares' plastered on his face, worn as a mask, because it was just so like him to act as if he owned the Arena, an act that, if the whisperings of the Hunters were anything to go by, was very convincing indeed.

Dean turned to look at Castiel, prepared to see him look sad, or angry, but not prepared for the terror and devastation that showed in the Avian's wide blue eyes and his shaking body. His point of view changed slightly, and he let out a small, mangled gasp before fury dripped down his face like quicksilver. He began rising, Dean and Samantha having to yank him back down into his seat. "His wings-" the distraught younger brother choked out, staring.

Samantha and Dean turned to look at Gabriel's wings themselves, and Samantha gave a small 'oh' of shock, and some slight disappointment in their own species.

The primary feathers on all of Gabriel's six wings had been harshly torn out, with a few others, leaving his wings bare and slightly misshapen, and as Cas knew, unable to be used. The wings were dirty, bloodstained and bare in places, and still, Gabriel kept them unfurled high in the air, looking almost proud.

Dean realized that was not pride (well. Not entirely.) but defiance, to the Ringmaster, to the assembled hunters watching. His wings were meant to be hidden, Dean was sure, seeing their color and bedraggled state, but Gabriel did not have a fuck to give.

And Dean found himself looking at the Avian with a sort of disbelieving admiration. Sure, he was an idiot, but this final act of defiance was admirable.

The Ringmaster's voice echoed through the Circus, and you could almost for a second see the gladiatorial fights of old, the same fight to the death, the same slavery, the same crowd prepared to call for blood, so much so that one could almost see the marble pillars beginning to rise out of the black dirt. "Ladies, gentlemen, other, for our final act, we have the execution of the defect Avian. Let it begin!"

Suddenly, though Dean and Samantha would wonder about it for a week or so to come, the four Avians in white had blades in their hands; needle-sharp and deadly. Gabriel had a blunt wooden pole about the same size as their swords, and he took a few quick steps backwards as the formation approached, one on his front and one on his left and right, with a third diving in from above.

The crowd seemed to love the fight that erupted, Gabriel dodging around his siblings, ducking and bobbing like a veteran hare surrounded by hounds on their first hunt, and they roared with every swing of an Avian's blade that came close to him, some even getting close enough to graze his side or his arm ; placing bets on how long the Avian would live.

The only three who hadn't seemed to pick up on the excitement of those surrounding them, who weren’t “jeering and cheering for some fool creature to get into even more trouble” as Ellen said, were the three kids in the front row, who were watching with a grim fascination and sweaty palms, because Gabriel was good, using the stick only in defense and not lashing out at his siblings, agile as he wove his way in between the four, and landing without a scratch.

You could almost see the thin lines of hope on Cas's face, in his eyes, as it began to look like Gabriel had some chance in the matter, with every blow he blocked and deflected and dodged, even the times he did something ridiculous like knocking one of his siblings back in the dirt with one of his wings.

As the fight continued, Dean shot a worried glance at his sister, because both of them had been in more fights than they should have, and they could see the mistake that Gabriel apparently couldnt; because Gabriel was distracted by two of the Avians, holding them off with relative ease, but his arm was up, which was leaving an opening--

There.

To Castiel, what happened next seemed to happen in an unreal frame, in slow motion, as if the scene unfolding were just one from a movie, a show. Gabriel spun his head around too little too late, which let his white winged sibling find his opening, the flaw in his tactics. And that was enough cue for them to attack, thrusting out with their blade. Before the inevitable strike caught Gabriel, in the heart stopping second before, he caught Cas's blue eyes, which were wide in horror, for a second and winked.

And immediately after that wink he gasped sharply, an involuntary sound that managed to pierce even the crowded Arena as his brother’s short sword split his skin, coming out the other side covered in Gabriel’s deep red blood, his eyes already beginning to glow silver and blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize....


	12. Chapter 12

Castiel hadn’t spoken since Gabriel had died. 

It had only been three days, but the Winchesters could feel the silence radiate off him, after they had pulled him out of the Circus, after he had keened Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel for half an hour curled in the streets, rocking and refusing to be moved, after this, after the pretense of concern they had received from hunters, he had not spoken.

Now, the two Winchester children exchanged glances as they watched Castiel trekking in front of them in the forest; his face carefully blank as he walked at the head of the group, so that John could ensure he didn’t run off.

John looked at his map once again, pulling out the dog-eared tan journal and flipping to one bookmarked page, nodding to Dean and stepping to the side, allowing Dean to slip around him, light footsteps leaving no trail. Nodded to his son, who dutifully hoisted his salt-loaded shotgun a little higher on his shoulder.

They were in the forest, after John had figured out where the new Avians would appear and when. That didn’t mean, however, that there would be any other supernatural foes in the forest, so the Winchesters and even Castiel were armed with enough weaponry to take on what might be in the forest; salt, holy water, hex bags, silver knives, holy oil.

They knew the general area where the Avians might appear, to a 20 yard radius, so Cas went with John, and Samantha and Dean broke off to go in the direction opposite, leaving a thin stream of holy oil and carving sigils into surrounding trees at the cardinal points; Dean and Samantha getting the north and east, John and Cas south and west. 

Samantha paused in where she was tying a hex bag to a branch of a nearby oak, kicking a dry leaf to the side as she glanced at her brother. 

”Dean, at any point… do you think we’re actually doing the right thing?”

Dean sighed, putting down his knife for a second to turn to her. 

”Of course we are, Sammy. We’re hunters. This is what we’ve always done.” he said harshly, perhaps too much so. Because he didn’t so much want to question it. If he wasn’t able to trust John, then what? The world would become too complicated if he already started to question everything they did, had already done. “We’ve saved lives, Sammy. It’s gotta be worth something.” Though from the white knuckled grip of the knife, and the uneven cut of the sigil, it might not be Sam he was trying to convince.

”I know we’ve helped people, Dean.” Samantha said, frowning a little. “But what about Castiel? Or-” She chewed her lip for a little. “What about Gabriel, Dean? He hadn’t done anything wrong. What about Samandriel?”

”Stripes?” Dean asked, with a raised eyebrow. “He’s with Bobby. I don’t think he’s so important. And Gabe, Cas- They might’ve been okay, but they’re not all Avians, okay, Sammy?”

”But-”

”I don’t need this right now, Sammy.” Dean said, interrupting his sister and immediately feeling a little bit guilty about it, if only for the ‘kicked puppy’ look Samantha gave him after the interruption. “Now, are you gonna let me kick your butt in sigil making, or are you gonna hurry it up there?”

Samantha frowned for a second, the frown creasing her forehead, but she continued her work, turning to the tree and speeding up the work, not even having to look at the page with the Enochian that Dean held, which made her brother shake his head a little for his brainiac sister.

She was too smart to be a hunter.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cas could easily read the Enochian printed on the paper in front of him, was in fact half tempted to tell John that there was a grammatical error there, and a few misspells. But he figured that since it shouldn’t overall affect the spellwork, John, who seemed to be a purely practical man, wouldn’t want to hear it. So continued his work dutifully, occasionally checking back to see which sigil should be used, or to grab a hex bag.

He had decided that the best method for dealing with all of this right now was to just not. Shoved any emotions, the grief that threatened to bubble over in his chest about Gabriel, the rage that he felt that they were now going to trap a few innocent Avians-- all that, he shoved down and refused to entertain. Just robotically drew sigil after sigil until his thin arm started to cramp up.

John had handed him the journal so he could see the complicated set of sigils he would need to draw up at the southern point, and now as he sat down on a stump and flipped through it to try and find the page, he could observe some about John from the book.

He noted with some dryness that if John hadn’t become a hunter through the unfortunate series of events, he could have been an artist, judging from the sketches of various creatures that scattered the margins of the scribbled handwriting.

He also gave a soft smile for the mentions of Samantha and Dean scattered through the pages, for handwriting getting less rushed as John wrote about how Samantha had won a poetry contest in her school, and a paperclipped copy of the poem attached, for the pride nearly showing through the writing in a description of a Wendigo, and how Dean had been the one to set the wards and catch it.

Finally, he found the page he’d been looking for and began setting up the warding, rolling his eyes at the uncomfortable drawing of blood for the runes. He took a step back, looking at the runes, the hex bags carefully woven into the branches of the trees so as to be hidden, the thin gleam of holy oil spread on the ground, and winced.

There was no need to check if the warding was perfect, as John wanted to, because he could recall what this looked like, from years ago, from the time he had been captured. He could remember being confused and overstimulated and feeling the power of the bloody wards on the trees surrounding. Castiel blinked hard and turned away. No time now for memories.


	13. Chapter 13

”What happens now?” Samantha asked, after a few terse seconds here they had all stood behind a log and just waited, silently crowding and brushing up against each other with a few light finger touches to confirm they were all there.

”We wait.” was John’s simple reply, hushed so as to be covered up by the sound of the wind blowing through the barren branches. Samantha shivered and wrapped her jacket a bit closer around her shoulders. Dean, upon noticing, slipped off his leather jacket and draped it loosely around her shoulders, stoically ignoring the goosebumps that nearly instantly sped up his arms. His sister shot him a bit of a grateful look, but began to hand it back to him. He stopped her by moving further away.

”How long?” came Dean’s questioning reply, almost quieter than his father’s. Castiel watched the hunter boy with unblinking eyes that were almost eerie in their quiet blue. Dean Winchester was too good of a weapon. No wonder he was-- no. That was over, had been with the age of manifested wings and Avians born to be chained. Vessels were no longer an issue. But he worried for the sake of his siblings; those yet to come down to Earth, those who had managed to escape. Michael, Raphael, Lucifer. He had only just heard of them, taken orders a few times when he had been light. 

Now the only thing that separated his three eldest brothers from being a myth or legend was the steady rate of disappearing Avians that would go missing from Circuses and Hunter's homes, the mutters of a possible rebellion. The occasional feather dappled in Michael’s crimson, black, deep blue, and cream, speckled with the tawny red and gold shades of Raphael’s wings, that might be left in the now emptied Avian pen. And of course, there were Lucifer’s Own. The black-eyed creatures, demons. When captured, they would snarl and talk of Lucifer, with details too intricate, and facts too private to be making it up.

Castiel could only hope fervently that if at least he was not able to make it to his elder brothers, perhaps his newly manifested siblings would escape. Or, the tiny hope nearly Avian kept, that they would eventually rescue enough Avians to start a revolution. That hope, Castiel quietly folded up and placed under several layers of doubt and realism. There was no way. Hunters and humans outnumbered Avians so much, the thought was nearly laughable.

He slid on to the fallen tree next to Dean, folding his trenchcoat beneath him so that the damp moss wouldn’t soak through his pants. Dean was absentmindedly flipping a penknife around his fingers, and when Cas sat next to him, he flipped it into his palm and snapped it shut, tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. He nodded to the Avian, his fingers busily drumming on the half-rotted bark.

’What happens now?’ The question Samantha had asked, and the question that now weighed heavily on everyone’s mind. Cas bothering to sit next to Dean might too be some inclination for his wanting to know the answer to the same. Dean got the sense that the Avian would not be curious about the immediate future, the capture of the Avians, but what would happen after that. What would happen as time unfolded, as it so often did? He turned his head a minute degree, away from Castiel’s stare, but felt duty-bound to explain, so he began to.

”You were with Gabriel, right?” The Avian turned his head a bit, seemingly startled by Dean, and gave a single nod to confirm this. “Then you wouldn’t know. You ended up being a Tracked- one of the ones who managed to get away from being originally captured.” Dean thought on it for a second. “We find the largest demand. See who wants them, and what age, and how much they’ll pay. If someone wanted a younger Avian, we couldn’t sell you, and all that. You just got rushed to the nearest Circus, rather than the one who wanted to purchase you most.”

He looked at Castiel, whose eyes were now narrowed somewhat, and sighed. “I know you ain’t property or whatever, but that’s how we live, Cas. I know you can think, and speak- even if you aren’t so much doing it now-” another narrow-eyed half glare from Cas at that “-But that’s not how the rest of the world thinks.” Dean finished, ignoring the occasional glares. “Even if they did begin to think you were, I dunno, sentient, I think besides the anti-Circus hippies, they’d ignore it.” That being how the world worked.

Castiel sighed, no more than a short huff of breath, and Dean jumped. Cas hadn’t said anything for the past few days, so even that small noise startled him.

“Cas, are you-” 

”Dean, bring it over here now! It’s beginning!” John called from across the clearing, and Dean blinked before springing into action, picking up his shotgun and slinging it over his shoulder, yanking his knife out of his pocket, and grabbing Cas’s arm with the knifeless hand, pulling him around the trees and next to his father.”

John and Sam were crouched behind separate trees, each holding weapons. “Dean, when this happens, it’s gonna attract a lot of big bads. Keep a gun out, make sure they don’t come too close.” Dean nodded, stepping up and beginning to jog off in a different direction, gun held in front of him. John looked at Castiel. “You, Avian- Castiel or Cassie or whatever the hell your name was- you’re gonna grab the kids. We don’t know how much energy they’re gonna still be givin’ off when they come through.”

He must have seen the look on Castiel’s face, because he promptly followed with “And you try anything funny, or try and run off, you’ll have a few extra holes in the head. Avian or no, that’s still gonna sting.” Castiel nodded once, eyes dark. His ability to heal himself right now was dubious at best. If John shot him in the head without these cuffs or collar, though, the Avian wouldn’t be the one to die. Sam gestured for him to get down, and he did so, pressing his back up against a tree and watching-- nothing. For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder if it was a false alarm, if they had gotten the location wrong.

It happened in the span of a blink.

Blank clearing. Cas’s eyes shut for a fraction of a second, and then, when he opened them once again, John and Samantha were tightening hands on their guns. It wasn’t hard to see why.

In the middle of the clearing, a radiant white light had begun to shine.


	14. Chapter 14

Dean could see the light from where he was running, jogging a loose perimeter with gun extended. He swore a little under his breath. How was that thing not going to be an instant beacon signal for any kind of monster? He didn’t even notice the path his own feet took, which, while continuing the perimeter, sent him running away from the continually advancing light. He felt a twinge of unease prickle on the back of his neck now, and consciously stopped running perimeter, choosing instead to sprint away from the painfully bright sphere of light that seemed to coat the forest, sending softer, dappled light into the trees beyond, and causing the shadows of the light brown trees to be ink-black lines that stretched dramatically off, leaving bold cuts on the face of the earth.

Dean stopped. It was light. Just light, nothing else. And Samantha was in there. It only took a second for him to charge up to where he could sense the barrier of sorts was. Hesitated, then literally walked into the light, muttering about irony.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Samantha could hear something singing. Some instinct had pushed her to squeeze her eyes shut, blocking her ears with her hands and curl up against the tree, pressing her knees against her hands in an attempt to block out the bright bright light and the high pitched noise that filled the air around her. But something, something, when she managed not to think about it-- the high pitched noise filled the air, but somewhere deep inside, she could hear song. The faintest of melodies, like when someone is playing music in a chatter, and you catch the air of the music, but there is too much around to hear the music for itself.

Samantha knew she had never heard the song before, and yet she clung to it like a child would grip a comfort toy, because it was at once so alien and so familiar, touching something inside her that made her want to do a thousand things at once- sleep quietly, charge into battle, get up and sing along, heal --something, and feel a thousand things at once-- joy, pride, sorrow, fear, determination, intimidation, regret… She grit her teeth as the song continued, realizing there was something wet running down the sides of her face, but not willing to reach up a hand, open an eye, and see whether it was salt water or blood. So Samantha Winchester sat there in doubt, curled up among the rough roots of a tree.

John Winchester was afraid. Afraid, surprisingly, not for himself, or even his children- though that was a high priority, and there was a stabbing in his gut that was begging the question ‘where’s Dean, where’s Dean, is he alright, did he get covered, what happened to Dean, and I can’t see Samantha, is she alright’ and he only hoped any monsters that would choose to come now when they were curled in the fetal position would be as hurt by the strange light as he seemed to be. But John Winchester was afraid he might be doing the wrong thing. He wasn’t sure where this fear came from; if this light was enough to hurt, wouldn’t it be good to hunt the beings who caused them, restrain them? But something had rooted guilt and doubt deep in his gut, and he doubted either would be a feeling that would easily leave him.

Castiel was the only one of the three who was standing as of the moment; and he could see it, could see it all. Could hear his new siblings, young and new to the world, singing joy and happiness and love (love for an absent Father, love that had left them on this planet to hope and pray for something to happen, someone help now, the angels are praying) and circling around him in curiosity, singing his name: Castiel, Castiel, Castiel, and letting a band of dismay run through their song as their light, their wings, brushed against his collar and cuffs, a band of sorrow as they tried to go fly free and could get no further in the world because they were barred by oil and carved sigils and herbs in small leather bags, and now they sang of uncertainty as they circled the clearing, looking to their senior for some sign of what to do. 

Run. Castiel wanted to shout at them, wanted to let his true voice ring out. Run away, fly away, and don’t look back. Forget that you think our Father might be here, because it is here he is most absent. Take your freedom and go. And he hated himself for what he had to do. Loathed himself as he stepped forward and said, in some illusion of calm he wasn’t sure he had in him, in Enochian, their own language, “^Siblings, come. Take your vessels, and come down to Earth. Manifest.^” He could hear his own voice clearly as song and metaphysical layers, but it would only sound like whine to the rest, which was one of the only reason he pitied humans. They were blind and deaf sometimes.

Maybe that was why they could commit atrocities; they were blind and deaf not only to the layers of the metaphysical, to the sights of the reality that pulsed on around them, but to the suffering of those who did see it, who lived in it. He closed his eyes as the light generated by the true forms of his siblings began to dim slowly, as they circled even more so in the middle of the clearing, starting to slowly manifest as they asked those who were to be, who had been, and who are their vessels for consent to such, and Cas could see for the span of time too small for a human to comprehend, four bright human souls. And he shut his eyes too, when he saw his sibling’s grace and light surround these souls.


	15. Chapter 15

Dean took a few minutes to uncurl from where he had nearly instantaneously dropped to the ground upon entering the bubble. He groaned a bit, then froze, realizing that he couldn’t hear his own voice when he had done so. Just to test it, he picked up a large stick lying nearby and slammed it against a tree. The branch made a loud crack as it splintered in half, causing the bird to fly out of the tree in alarm. Dean could hear only a faint, dull thud. He thought for a second about Samantha, John, Cas, if they’d been negatively affected by the light and the high-pitched whining as he had, and began running back towards where they had been, stumbling every so often from the lack of balance that had come from his lack of hearing.

He stopped when he reached the clearing, assessing what was happening. John was standing up, rubbing his eyes and evidently muttering something. Samantha was crouched against a tree, and when she saw Dean, stood up, calling out to him. “I’m fine, Sammy.” Dean replied to whatever she was saying, evidently a bit too loud by the way she winced. She pointed at Dean and tapped her ears, and Dean reached up to do the same, feeling a small trickle of mostly dried blood surrounding his ear. Oh. Samantha winced sympathetically, and pointed towards Castiel.

Castiel, Dean did not quite expect. He was holding four- well, babies. They all looked to be about the same age, maybe a year old or so. He looked as if he was balancing the four well enough, but Dean hurried over to him and took one of the children from him. He looked down at the kid, who, ironically, was wearing a white dress. He blinked. He could have sworn that when he looked at Cas, the kid was an infant, but now it looked like, say, a two year old. Castiel smiled at the blonde kid in Dean’s arms and said something. Dean was surprised Castiel had started talking again, and would perhaps be more so if he could actually hear.

”--iel, Dean.” Castiel finished, and Dean blinked. “Would you mind repeating that?” Blinked again, because he could hear. He looked at the little girl in his arms, and it slowly dawned on him that she was touching the side of her face, looking at Dean with innocent curiosity. He took her wrist gently and slowly lowered her hand, feeling around his ear. He could hear again. Not just that, but the small trickle of blood was gone. 

“Her name is Tahariel, Dean.” Castiel said again, patiently. “This is Nathaniel, Adriel, and Leliel.” It hit Dean as it really shouldn’t have that these were Avians. And even as he noticed it, he mentally smacked himself for being an idiot, seeing tawny brown and sky blue feathers peek out from underneath Tahariel’s dress. Castiel half-sung something in Enochian to her and she complied, cooing a little and extending one tawny brown and sky-blue wing about the size of Dean’s arms. Dean touched one of her downy feathers softly and she giggled, a clear sound like bells, and curled her toes.

Dean looked over dubiously at the kids in Castiel’s arm. Adriel was the smallest, a tiny boy with dark brown, curly hair and wings that were so brightly green they nearly could be called neon. He was asleep, nestled into Cas’s shoulder. Leliel had serious dark eyes, and sucked her thumb quietly, looking up at Cas. Nathaniel had violent red hair, and he was grinning as he blew bubbles, rocking back and forth, light gold wings rumpled.

Dean looked up at Castiel, an eyebrow raised. “They all looked like infants about a minute ago. What happened?” Castiel took his own sweet time in answering, brushing Leliel’s black hair behind her ear and smiling at her a little.

”Avians adapt, Dean. We each- well, it’s hard to explain. We ask for a vessel’s permission later in their life, but we take the vessels at infancy, in a way. It’s paradoxial. But we adapt. Whatever age it would be best for us to be at the time, we grow to be. I’ve actually been on Earth for about fourteen years, and I’ve looked fourteen for six and a half of them.” He noted Dean’s look, his narrowed eyes. “I am aware taking vessels is illegal on this Earth. Yours is not the only universe.”

And with that somewhat confusing explanation, he left a bewildered Dean standing with a baby Avian in the middle of the clearing, going to sit next to Samantha, who of course was infatuated with the babies, instantly cooing about how adorable they were, and starting a game of peek-a-boo with Nathaniel, much to the bemusement of Castiel, who smiled a bit at his brother’s wide eyed look every time Samantha’s face was hidden. Dean handed Tahariel to Samantha, who began to braid the Avian’s wispy blonde hair, and went to stand by his father, who had an unreadable expression.

”I don’t like it. It’s.. unnatural.” his dad muttered, as Dean sat on the hood of the Impala (which required much training in the art of ignoring John Winchester’s going-to-murder-you looks) and tapped his fingers nervously on the black paint job.

Dean nodded once. “They’re cute enough. But it’s kinda unnerving how quickly their ages changed, I mean, when Cas picked them up, they were infants. At least now we shouldn’t worry quite as much about feeding them.”

John huffed out a breath. “I still don’t think you two should have to deal with five Avians while I go hunting. You know I can’t be taking you with anymore, right? Not when you’ve got Sammy and five of them. Speaking of which-” his eyes narrowed a bit as he looked to Samantha and Cas holding the younger Avians. “You think your friend’s got anything to do with their age?”

Dean shook his head. “Dunno. I don’t think he does. But there’s always that chance.”


	16. Chapter 16

It was a two hour car ride back to the hotel. Samantha sat in the front, gloating a little about how she had managed to call shotgun first, but the car was fairly silent, Cas sitting in the back with Dean, Taharial sitting in the middle, on an ancient booster seat that had used to belong to Samantha. Cas held Nathaniel, managng to hold the squirming Avian still, Dean was awkwardly holding the solemn Leliel, and Samantha held the sleeping Adriel gently, while John managed to somehow ignore all five of the Avians in the car and played classic rock.

”-eye of the tiger, thrill of the fight.” Dean nearly tossed Leliel out of his arms then when he realized that she was the one singing, in a clear voice a bit higher than he could remember that song ever being. There was still several elements of ‘little kid singing’ in her voice; lisps, when she turned ‘th’ into ‘d’, the slight mispronunciations of her words, putting emphasis on the wrong syllable. Samantha turned to watch Leliel, who was still looking serious as she sang. Nathaniel quit his squirming around in Cas’s arms in favor of watching his sister with gaping mouth and eyes before joining in, kicking poor Cas with chubby legs in time to the beat.

Even Adriel was humming quietly; seemed too young to grasp the actual words of the song, but was now awake, giving Samantha a wide grin and clutching at her finger. Taharial now joined in, and Dean blinked at the girl who seemed to be aging the fastest; her hair now instead of being finely wisped around her head, fell in bright ringlets, halfway down her neck. She looked as if she could have been three or four, and it was all Dean could do not to freak out there because /holy shit that kid was an infant about an hour and a half ago/. She was better at enunciating the words than her siblings (not her younger siblings, the older Winchester had to remind himself), and the seat belt wasn’t awkwardly over her face anymore.

Samantha had to wonder how the Avian could have aged so subtly. You didn’t see the change, you just somehow knew that an hour and a half ago, Taharial had been an infant, and now she was a preschooler. The song drew to a close, and John promptly turned the radio off, ending the makeshift chorus. The Avians looked disappointed, on different levels. Serious Leliel just looked downcast. Castiel just raised an eyebrow at John. Nathaniel looked like he was four seconds away from throwing a tantrum, and Cas didn’t seem like he was going to stop him if it happened. And Adriel started crying, sobbing in Samantha’s arms as she desperately tried to comfort the crying Avian.

It was actually Cas who managed to comfort Adriel; reaching over a concerned Samantha, who willingly reached out the small Avian to him. He pet Adriel’s hair softly, and muttered something quietly in Enochian, causing both John and Dean to raise an eyebrow, as Adriel calmed quietly. Then, Castiel began singing softly, something that sounded near to a lullabye, the other Avians in the car falling silent to listen to him. Adriel smiled up at him, blinking drowsily, and nestled back into Samantha’s arms, slowly falling asleep. Dean felt a warm weight against his shoulder and realized that Taharial was now sleeping on his shoulder. Leliel was holding his sleeve gently as she slept, having turned her face into the crook of his elbow. Even the energetic Nathaniel was now quietly sleep-flopping, tossing and turning a bit back and forth in Cas’ arms, as Cas finished the song, singing in a surprisingly gravelly voice for someone who looked to be Dean’s age.

Cas pet Nathaniel’s hair, looking almost sad in that moment. He looked up for a second, meeting the Winchester’s eyes. “Bah-rah-ee-day-oh, oh-lay en-oh-rah-oh-mai oh-ee-ah-day, oh-lay pay-ai-es-ah-ha-es-ah oh-ee-ah-day, bah-rah-ee-day-oh ” he stated quietly, the odd Enochian he had been singing seeming far less magical when spoken in everyday tones, losing their mystery when the little Avians were asleep and Cas translated. “Sleep, my sons of God, my daughters of God, sleep. It’s simple, but they know enough to follow it.” Castiel didn’t mention the story behind it; that every time he and the rest who had managed to flee with Gabriel were being too rowdy, he would make them sit around, pulling up jackets or a comfortable patch of moss or an unfortunate sibling’s leg.

”I’d first off like to tell you all that you’re annoying little fluffballs.” he’d snark, that or something along the lines. But he’d get a look of near revanence when he would talk about his older brothers, at the same time managing to look still in awe of them while looking somewhat exasperated, and all the youngers would scoot just that much closer for it. “Michael always did this if Luci dear and I were being annoying little shits.” (Some of the younger and more immature Avians would gasp or giggle at his swearing, but most were used to it by now.) “If you ever meet Raphael, don’t tell him I said this, but he was so boring, he didn’t need it. The stick in his ass was probably jammed so far up, he could use it as a pillow.” (There would always be the healer-type angel that would call out that that wasn’t anatomically possible, and Gabriel would roll his eyes, but everyone else hid grins behind their hands and listened attentively, because this was the best part) Gabriel would sigh, and he’d start singing, one or two knowing that he sung in a tempo a few beats faster than the song was meant to be.

It was how Castiel had learned to fall asleep, what had actually helped him develop an actual sleeping schedule. So now as he looked at Sam and Dean, he just raised an eyebrow. Gabriel might be gone. There was no way he could get around it. He could grieve later, these child Avians needed to learn, if they were going to so soon become a part of the Circus. 

”They learn by singing.” Cas said, rocking Nathaniel back and forth a little as the car bumped it’s way down the road. “It’s how they learn English, how to use their voices, and sometimes how to sleep, how to act, when to act. You can’t deny them this. Creatures or not, you are about to send them into the equivalent of the work force. If nothing else matters to you, perhaps I can appeal to you by saying that you’ll get a better price for them.” Raised his chin defiantly and narrowed eyes at John, because he would not toss his siblings into that world without some kicking and screaming on his part.

John said nothing, but when the small Avians woke up once again, Dean turned on the radio, and other than the sound of the four new Avians joyously finding their voice, the Impala was silent.


	17. Chapter 17

”Yup. Alright. We’ll see how they stand by the end of this week, and then I’ll swing by with the four of them.” John set down the phone, rubbing his eyes and turning to face the shut door which he knew, just knew, he’d find his kids and the Avian crew hiding and eavesdropping. “I thought I taught all of you better than that.” Slowly, like a group of snails poking out of their shells, the door creaked open and all of them poked their heads around the doorway, each wearing different levels of sheepish guilt at getting caught. Dean cleared his throat after he felt like the moment of John’s disapproval had stretched on for long enough, and walked into the rooms, hands stuck deep in the pockets of his leather jacket.

”So. Who was that?” As Dean asked that, Samantha had already crawled over the couch arm and checked the last calls the phone had made, eyes widening as she recognized the number.

”It’s the Circus, Dean.” she stated grimly, holding up the phone as evidence. She looked at John, chewing on her lip. “‘See how they stand by the end of the week.’ Dad, you’re gonna sell them, aren’t you? The Ringmaster told you to bring them in a week, right?” she asked, hazel eyes showing the anxiety she felt with the answers to the questions. John was silent for a few seconds.

”It could be a little more than a week, if they aren’t grown enough for them to sell.” he finally admitted, turning away from his daughter’s stare. Dean swore under his breath, huffily flopping on the couch and crossing his arms, glaring at John. “Dean, you knew we couldn’t keep them. You weren’t even supposed to bring home the first one. It’s just another hunting trip.” John reprimanded. Dean turned his head and steadfastly did not reply, while Samantha just gave her father the biggest puppy eyes she could manage, widening her hazel eyes and sticking out her bottom lip.

The Avians looked fairly unconcerned about the fact that they were being talked about as property. Nathaniel was chewing on his nail, however, leg jittering as it looked as something dawned on him finally. “Then… if we’re getting sold to the Circus in a week, will we be split up?” Adriel blinked, and then began to sniffle, rubbing his eyes, which caused Leliel to kneel down beside him and stroke his hair, the two of them having a short, murmured conversation back and forth until he nodded and lifted his chin, wiping his nose and making an effort to stop crying. Taharial stepped up, ruffling Nathaniel’s hair, which earned her an annoyed glare, but he stopped biting his nail.

”I wouldn’t be too worried, Nathaniel.” she said, putting on an act that, with a small start of disbelief, Dean recognized as one an older sibling put on when they were worried, but were more concerned about helping the younger. He glanced at Samantha, then at Tahariel. It had only been a handful of days she had been around. When had she become an older sibling to the other three? Cas gave her a small approving nod, and she responded with a nod in kind. “We’ll be sold to the Circus, yeah, but we should probably get to stick together for awhile there.” Nathaniel nodded, his expression clearing up a bit, and Adriel smiled too, wrapping his arms around Tahariel’s waist, beaming.

John cleared his throat, reminding the Avians mid touching moment that he was still there. “Anyway, the Avian Circus needs your measurements today and the day before we hand you over.” He pulled out a tape measure, one that Samantha remembered well for Dean always teasing her that he was ‘still taller than you, shrimp’. Which she always responded with ‘For now.’. Tahariel stepped forward, and John snapped a picture, nodding and jotting something down. “Looks…. nine or so, female, vessel looks Caucasian, four feet ten inches tall, wingspan of thirteen feet from one tip to another, natural coloring, light blue and tan.” Jotted down the information he needed and waved the Avian on, Tahariel obligingly folding her wings and pushing Adriel forward. “About three, male, African American, three feet five inches tall, wingspan of seven feet, natural coloring, neon freaking green.” Leliel stepped up, extending her wings. “Seven, maybe eight, female, four feet two inches, vessel looks maybe Korean, wingspan of nine feet, natural coloring, dark purple and white.” Nathaniel spun in a few circles before flopping on the ground, John sighed and just measured him there. “Looks six, Caucasian, three feet eleven inches, wingspan of nine feet, natural coloring, light gold.” He snapped the tape measure back in, then looked at Cas expectantly.

It took Dean all of two seconds to figure that out. “No. Dad, no, we aren’t gonna sell Cas.” John sighed. “Dean-” “No.” John rubbed his eyes. “I’ll think about it Dean, but we can’t keep an Avian, Dean. They aren’t human.”

It was a surprise to them all when quiet Leliel spoke up. “Have you considered that that might not be so bad?” Looked up at the three gathered humans with big serious eyes. Cas ruffled her hair, shushing her quietly.

”It’s our current mission, Leliel. We were told to serve the humans; the humans just took it further than perhaps we believe it should.” Castiel’s quiet explanation; one he had both heard and given so many times, that made John eyes narrow and Samantha look somewhat guilty, and Dean look angry, though whether it was directed towards Cas or himself, Cas couldn’t tell. Wasn’t too concerned, to be honest.

”We’ll keep him.” John said, after a heavy moment where Samantha was idly wondering if Dean could take Cas and the younger Avians in a fight if it ever came to it. “If he learns to watch his mouth, that is. But the rest have to go. Is that fair?” Pointed looks at Samantha and Dean; the Avians were not given a say into their own fate. The younger Winchesters looked at each other, looked at the ground, and nodded.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, guys, I'm going to be working on Nanowrimo, so I won't have as much time to update this. We'll get to the good bit, don't worry.

”What are you doing?” Dean called up to Cas, shielding his face from the sun with his hand and squinting up into the branches of the tree.

”Climbing a tree.” Castiel said back down, ever so calmly, using his hands to make a platform for Taharial to clamber onto the next branch up. Adriel had his arms wrapped around Cas’s shoulders, clinging onto his back, Leliel was getting pulled up by Taharial, and Nathaniel was monkeying around closer to the top.

Dean sighed. “I got that, thanks.” He grumbled for a few minutes and then grabbed a branch, swinging himself up with ease. “Why are you climbing a tree?”

”We have five days before the four of them are sold into the Circus; I intend to see they at least know how to fly.” 

Dean blinked at that revelation. “Flying? You’re literally going to toss them out of a tree?” He refrained from making any ‘mama bird Cas’ jokes, though it was so very tempting.

Cas didn’t react much to that; but for pulling himself higher, already having noted an appropriate branch he could use that Nathaniel was already swinging himself around. “If you have any other ways to teach them effectively and efficiently, I suggest you tell us now.” he said, giving Dean a wry smile as he pulled himself onto the long branch, setting Adriel down. “Tahariel is already fairly good at one method of flight, I figured it was high time the rest of them learned both.”

Dean looked up at Tahariel, kicking off a knot with a bit of a grunt to pull himself onto the branch with the collected Avians, feeling the rough bark scrape his face. “When the hell did you learn that?” he muttered, rubbing at his scraped cheek absentmindedly. Then something Cas had said caught at him and he cocked his head, narrowing his eyes as he turned to look at the Avian. “Both?” Raised an eyebrow. He had obviously seen the Avians soaring around in the Circus before, but what could Cas mean by that?

”I’m just special like that.” Taharial said, in response to Dean’s question, which earned her a raised eyebrow and a pointed sigh from the hunter. She gave him a dry smile and bowed a little, using one hand to hold on to a thin branch above her head so as not to fall. (which Dean thought was pointless, seeing as Cas was apparently going to toss them out of the tree soon enough).

”Both. Physical and metaphysical. Angel wings were originally metaphysical objects, like our grace, but the collars and cuffs you give us-” Here, he shook back the sleeve of his coat enough that the cuff glinted in the light, as a demonstration to the younger Avians, who instinctively shied away from it, just a little. “-bind our metaphysical wings. If they don’t proceed, we are still able to fly physically, but sometimes, they set up spells so that if we try to physically fly, our wings freeze mid-flight.” Said calmly, in the way a soldier would report atrocities in later writings. Dean pictured that, an Avian taking flight and crashing to the ground, and he winced. “Tahariel has gotten fairly good at metaphysical flight.” He gave her a small smile of encouragement, to which she complied. All Dean saw was that her wings shifted very slightly at her back and then she was sitting smugly on a branch that was six or so over the one they were all gathered on.

Dean blinked. “Metaphysical flight, huh?” Suddenly, something hit him, and he looked at the four younger Avians in confusion, head tilted to the side a bit. “If you can do that, why don’t you just, you know, fly away or something? I wouldn’t be able to stop you if you did.” A small part of Dean Winchester wondered if he would even want to stop them. Maybe they should try to escape. They didn’t have much time left, after all.

Cas shook his head, effectively stopping Dean’s train of thought in its tracks with a short sigh. “Because Tahariel, out of the five of us, is the only one who can do it. Because it’s actually somewhat exhausting for a new Avian to do such. Because the second you would have come back from this tree without having us five Avians in tow, your father would immediately set out a search warrant, and every hunter that could would be looking for us. Because captured escape Avians get worse punishments than those who are obedient.” Cas sighed, his eyebrows drawing together for a fraction of a second as he lightly touched the bark. 

“Anyway. Smallest first, yes?” He nudged Adriel gently, kneeling down to his height to poke at his shoulder, and the small Avian looked abjectly terrified as he clung to Cas’s leg, giving his older brother what appeared to be a wide-eyed look of ‘don’t do this to me’. Cas gave him a bit of an apologetic smile (generous description. It seemed like Cas was saying ‘sorry not sorry’ with his expression.) and hoisted him up in his arms, Adriel gripping to the sleeves of his jacket and staring at Dean as if Dean might be able to help him. Dean shrugged and stepped back, giving Cas a thumbs up.

It seemed almost unceremonial, the way Cas tossed his green winged brother out of the tree, after whispering to him a few words of encouragement and flight tips. For a heart-stopping second, Adriel’s wings were firmly folded against his back, and Dean wanted to punch Castiel, because it looked as if Adriel’s flying was going to sorely be a downward one, with an unpleasant ending. But then, after a second of terrified hesitation, Adriel unfurled his neon green wings, stopping his descent and going into an awkward glide, flapping one wing a bit and slowly but surely coming on level with Castiel and Dean. Castiel was giving him a small smile, but Dean, additionally an older sibling, could tell that he was practically beaming with pride.

**Author's Note:**

> Additionally, if anyone has any angel OCs or characters they want mentioned, I may be in need of them soon. Drop a comment?


End file.
